Chickens and Goldfish

This week our Venue small group met at my parent’s new house and helped them move stuff in, mostly because I asked them to… and mostly because I hate moving…

Now I spent years doing work that I didn’t particularly care for, other than the option was to notenjoy myself, have a rotten attitude AND do work I didn’t particularly care for, so I decided I liked it and got on with my life.

Turns out it was prophetic and I ended up liking it, but mostly because I’d already decided that I did. Confusing, but that’s how my brain works.

I loved moving my parents from the small town where they come from, mostly because it’s caught in a time warp where nothing changes, nobody’s allowed to think about things that are actually awesome, the metric system is a tool of the devil, they’re skeptical a man landed on the moon, and they likes it that way. One day they had a meeting at the library and someone suggested they should raise chickens if they renovated it… because that’s what libraries do. Oh and they have books, they should probably have books?

Speaking of chickens, I’ve heard that there have been X number of permits giving to Airdrie residents allowing them to raise chickens or something. Firstly, I haven’t checked the rumour to see if it’s true and secondly, please don’t give the permits to my neighbours. Actually a friend of mine had chickens in the city for awhile (you know who you are) because it’s nice to “have free eggs”, but I’m still wrapping my head around the cow I’ll need, tiny plot of corn, and fifty million other things like a shoe factory to provide for us. But the City has been reticent to grant me permits for some reason…


Whatever, if you want chickens, urbanites, raise chickens and more power to ya. If your chickens wake me up at night I will help you eat them.

But I’m not an animal guy… Actually a couple of buddies bought me a goldfish as a joke after I preached about “maybe you like being the big fish in the small tank?” And it’s kind of growing on me. Not growing on me like in those weird space movies, but in it’s tank and I look at it occasionally.

I don’t particularly think about it when I’m not looking at it, or feel anything about it yet. One day I saw it swimming around and thought “Huh…”, which is shockingly emotional for someone who doesn’t get why I need more dependants who cost money and need cleaning up after, but these dependants never get jobs and move out because their setup is pretty sweet.

You’d live with someone who fed you treats and cleaned up your mess in the park too if anyone actually would… In other news I tried to get into Sushi’s head (named by my girls) by feeding it a granola bar through the glass but I must have spooked it because it hid behind its little tree or whatever that thing is.

So we moved my parents six blocks away with a 7 Eleven in between to ensure the grandkids come over often and I’m happy, but I hate moving stuff.

To be fair they were super organized and a couple of great guys helped me most of the day before my small group showed up, but I get to this weird zen place where I’d rather throw everything out and start all over again. Until I had to move the new stuff in and then it would be the same thing I guess.. Or I actually had to pay for it.

Moving stuff with men takes on very sarcastic elements where everyone is trying to get their buddy laughing on the heavy end of carrying a couch down the stairs, just to see if he’ll drop it. I think I used my line “Geez guys, it feels like I’m doing all the lifting” on four separate occasions, which everyone was kind enough to laugh at with no originality points, but we still had fun.

So mom and dad live in our little city now and I’m happy. I’m not sure if their old town misses them, or will even notice that somebody else lives in their house. I do know that if they actually leave their own houses and hear the news they’ll have more to talk about than they have for years! “Do you know that the Kopes left and moved to Airdrie? I heard they had to leave town because Joe down the street said that he heard from his auntie’s cat that….!”.. and so forth. And who would ever question Joe down the street’s auntie’s cat?

Small town life caught up with them here anyways it would seem…

But there’s no way my dad’s raising chickens…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s